You found me, I knew you would
by StorybrookeMaine
Summary: What wouldn't a parent do for their kid? Jefferson and Grace fanfic, possibly introducing some OCs and including some other characters from the show. Please review what you think!
1. Chapter 1

_"You know what the problem is with this world? Everyone wants some magical solution for their problem and yet everyone refuses to believe in magic."_

Jefferson looked down at the scissors he was gripping. He'd been holding them for so long there was a red line forming on the back of his thumb where the handle pressed into his skin. He dropped the scissors and they hit the tiled kitchen floor with a clatter, the light from the window reflecting on the metal and bouncing rays of sunlight around the room.

Standing up and pushing his chair back with his foot, he leaned on the table and looked at his finished work. Picking up the hat, he stared at it critically and then chucked it over his shoulder.

"Nothing. Not one ounce of anything. No magic, no power, no portal, no home."

So his newly-made hat was merely left in the cupboard to collect dust, along with the thirty-one others he'd made that year.

The house was empty, as usual, as always. He often found himself wandering around aimlessly, glancing at empty photo frames, tripping on the fold in the carpet under the arch where the ends didn't quite meet. Not a living soul in sight, ever. He used to have mirrors before he couldn't bear the idea of someone watching him, so the mirrors lived with the rejected, useless hats. He hated seeing himself. Seeing what he'd become.

If anyone ever came to visit, they'd find a pretty weird house. The middle of the forest, right on the Storybrooke border. Not like he'd get any visitors anyway.

He headed out, walking the entire way into the main town. He started to jog but decided he wasn't quite dressed right for it. Besides, the jogging made him hot, but he was still wearing a scarf. Can't have the neighbours wondering about what happened to the crazy man.

Storybrooke was silent when Jefferson arrived, the streets lined with eerie quiet and schoolboys' litter. Glancing at the bronze pocket watch he kept on him at all times, he relaxed slightly. He was early.

Seeing as he had approximately seven minutes and forty-five seconds to spare, he strolled down to the newsagents, and bought a newspaper. Flicking through it, he knew it was all a joke. _World news._

_Who needs to learn about the rest of the world when nobody leaves this town, anyway?_

The sea looked a little rough. He spotted a sailing boat struggling to stay upright in the wind, and at least three people rushing about frantically on the small deck.

It made him a little sad. The border restriction even worked on the sea. Many a boat has gone too far and crossed the invisible line, and many a boat has been reported mysteriously disappeared.

It's been happening for twenty-eight years. Then again, everything in Storybrooke has been happening for twenty-eight years.

Pulling himself away from the sea, Jefferson once again checked his watch and found himself rushing to get there on time. He'd spent too much time at the harbour.

_What if I've missed her? _

He skidded to a halt in front on the bench and sat down, reopening the newspaper that had been crushed in his fist. Just in time. Peering over the top, he then watched her leaving the school, laughing with friends, happy, alive.

She looked happy. She was alive. Of course.

Every day he got down there and every day he sat on that bench and every day he watched her leaving the school gates and getting on the bus and every day she was happy.

_Every day._

Jefferson wouldn't stop looking out for his little Grace. Never ever. Not even when the clock ticked, not even when the curse broke.

The shock, naturally, came when he walked back into the main square.

And the clock ticked.


	2. Chapter 2

Dreaming. Not dreaming. He blinked.

Nope. The clock was ticking, slow and steady, second by second.

Dreaming. Not dreaming. Mad?

Mad.

* * *

_"How could you say this?" he asked her, his eyes wide._

_"I have a kingdom to run," she replied sweetly. "And you got in my way."_

_"This can't be happening." Where did it go wrong? One moment, they were both fine. The next moment, she was in his arms. The moment after that – _

_Regina's cold hand gripped his wrist tightly. "Jefferson . . ." she started to say, in her most evil, threatening tone. He cut her off quickly._

_"I got in your way," he said hastily. "I got in your way. Nothing happened between us. You're the queen of the Enchanted Forest and I am merely a portal jumper in your service. Nothing happened between us."_

_As he said those words, the darkness vanished, and it seemed as though the room had lightened by a degree. "Perfect," the queen drawled, tracing her finger over his chest. "Now run along."_

_He shivered slightly, half-desperate and half-disgusted. Sure, he'd liked the feel of her skin, and he craved the harsh, commanding power she radiated, but he knew what she did. How mere months ago, she listened to him; trusted him, even. Mere months could change a lot. _

_How the innocent girl who missed her stable boy turned into a name that children tremble to hear._

* * *

As Jefferson headed home, the cold night air biting at him and snaking down the back of his neck, he was lost deep in thought. The clock was ticking. But why?

Magic hadn't returned to Storybrooke, that much was clear. But something had changed it, something or someone. Out there was his way home. Out there was his way back to Grace. Out there was something that had the power to unfreeze time, to taint the air with magic, to bring hope for everyone.

And he was going to find it.

He got in, and headed upstairs immediately. _Can't be late, must follow the plan._ Ducking down slightly, he peered through the telescope and only allowed himself to breathe when he saw Paige sitting at the table, eating. From the looks of things, arguing with her 'parents', too.

_Just appreciate the fact that you have her, idiots. If she was mine I would never argue with her. I'd treat her like the most special, beautiful, brilliant girl in the world._

_Like she is._

His heart twisted slightly as he moved away from the telescope, cleaning the lens with a small cloth and heading back downstairs.

Now to find whatever was changing Storybrooke. It wouldn't be easy, and heaven knew he would end up talking to people – which is really something he rather avoided. But what to do first . . .

Jefferson ran a hand through his hair, spiking it up a little. His eyes flicked round the room, from the leather cream-coloured sofa, to the piano, to the smashed mirror above the fireplace, to the fireplace itself.

_I have all this useless stuff . . . What can I actually use? _

"No need to talk in your head, Jefferson," he muttered. "Nobody can hear you."

Then he threw back his once-detached head and filled his lungs with air, feeling the madness he had been so adequately named for build up inside him, like a volcano ready to erupt, like a rocket ready to blast off into the depths of space. Five, four, three, two, one . . .

He let the rocket blast, the volcano erupt, the madness release, because he was so _lonely_.

"NOBODY CAN HEAR YOU!"


	3. Chapter 3

_Focus, Jefferson. _

_I can't . . ._

_Focus!_

It was the first time in twenty-eight years that he had any form of a plan other than making hats repeatedly and hoping one will work. Now he just needed to make a plan to find this new . . . new thing.

Jefferson practically flew up the stairs when he remembered his maps. Crashing into the library, he poured through the shelves at a speed faster than he could really register. "No. No. No. Not there." He tried the next shelf. "No. No. Not – YES!"

He pulled out the rolled-up maps with a flourish, flicking them so that they unrolled in front of him. _Perfect_. He then tumbled back down the stairs, scarf coming loose in the meantime, and slammed the unravelled maps onto the piano.

The small town of Storybrooke was displayed in front of him, from Granny's diner to Grace's school. He studied the map closely. _Where to start searching . . . ?_

He eventually decided the best place to start would be the Sheriff's station, but that would have to wait until morning.

He let his mind wander to the future – how he imagined it. Him, Grace, together. Back in the Enchanted Forest, preferably with Regina dead and gone.

* * *

_"Alice?"_

_"I'm here, Jefferson."_

_He turned round to see his wife sitting at the kitchen table, legs crossed, arms folded. He knew that look and it wasn't good, that was for sure._

_"Sorry I'm late, Little Rabbit."_

_Alice stood up, arms still folded. "Oh, no you don't," she hissed. "Don't come waltzing in here two hours late and act like everything's okay. Don't 'Little Rabbit' me. And don't expect me to let you sleep here tonight unless you tell me where you were – right now."_

_He sighed, running a hand through his hair. She was already suspicious . . . and she had every right to be. "Alice, I told you, I'm sorry."_

_She glared at him. "Sorry doesn't fix everything, Jefferson."_

_He paused a moment, before lowering his eyes. He couldn't even bear to look at her. "You know very well that I have a hard job, Alice. It's hard to be on time every day when I'm travelling to other worlds all the time – I just don't know how long it'll take." He looked up again, forcing himself to meet her piercing, clear blue eyes. "I'm sorry I was late. Today was . . . difficult."_

_Difficult, no. Enjoyable, yes._

_Alice's cold stare softened and she walked forward, wrapping her arms round his waist. He tensed momentarily before relaxing, hugging her back tightly._

_"I'm worried about you, Jefferson . . ." She trailed off as he tilted her head up and planted a soft kiss on her cherry-red lips. _

_"I promise I'll always come home. Always." He ran a hand through her gold ringlets and kissed her again, longingly. She responded happily, moving her arms from round his waist to round his neck, pulling his head down. He smiled, his mouth still pressed to hers. "Alice . . ." he mumbled, his hand loosely trailing down her side._

_"Yes, Hatter?"_

_"I'm sorry." _

_And he was, he really was. He was sorry for lying to her. He was sorry for being so unfaithful. He wanted to be with Alice, safe, happy, together. But it wasn't going to happen. He hated seeing her, knowing she didn't really believe him but pretending to trust him for both their sakes. _

_"You've nothing to apologise for . . ."_

_"I'm sorry – for keeping you waiting." He swallowed. "I'll try harder, Little Rabbit."_

_Gods, she was beautiful. When she smiled – really, properly smiled – her eyes lit up, her eyebrows lifted, her paper-white skin stretched as her full lips turned into a beam. She seemed to radiate with life and love and faith and beauty._

_And she pushed a hair from out of his eyes, resting her hand on his cheek, and merely repeated, "You've nothing to apologise for, Hatter."_

_He scooped her up in his arms and kissed her, happy, grateful. This was what he wanted. To be with his wife, his true love, not Regina. _

_The problem with life is that you don't always get what you want._


	4. Chapter 4

The town of Storybrooke was buzzing with life, as usual, when Jefferson went down. He did the usual morning routine – boring but effective. First, as always, he bought a coffee from that stall outside the church, the stall manned by the guy that never ever talks. The coffee (even after twenty-eight years) tasted disgusting, but it gave him what countless sleepless nights couldn't. Energy. After getting his coffee, he always then headed down to the school, took his place on the bench and stayed huddled over the paper cup as the school bus turned the corner. When it slowly squeaked to a halt, and the familiar hissing of the opening doors sounded, he'd glance up and watch the kids file off in groups of two or three. Grace was usually about the eighth or ninth person off the bus, so he'd wait for her and watch her go in, analysing her to make sure she was happy. To make sure she was safe. When Grace went through the school gates, he always then stood up, binned his empty coffee cup and headed home.

But not today.

Today was important, as when Grace walked into school acting as her natural, bubbly self, he binned the coffee cup and instead of heading home, he headed to the police station. He hadn't been round Storybrooke for years – minus the route to the school – but finding his way round wasn't difficult, because of his maps. As strangers never came to Storybrooke, seeing somebody one hadn't seen before was unusual, so Jefferson was given a few odd looks when walking round. He had brought his pocket-sized map with him, but he didn't need it. He could find his way pretty well. When all one has is a large, empty house, a piano, a library and some hats, one picks up a few hobbies. One of them was studying the old, dusty maps shoved on the top shelf at the back of the library. With 28 years to do nothing, he got pretty good at reading them.

Within the hour, he found himself standing outside the police station, ready to go in. This road wasn't as crowded: only three other people were walking down it.

Nervousness hit him the moment he stepped up to go through the door. _Pull yourself together, you're doing this for her._ He hadn't had a steady conversation to someone since Cora executed him.

_What if I say the wrong thing? Alice would know what to do. She always knew what to do, how to take care of Grace, how to make me feel better. I knew how to lie and cheat and abandon my daughter. Who deserved to die, here?_

Jefferson took a deep breath. _You're a coward . . ._

He started to walk inside. _Don't do this . . . _

"Sheriff?"

_Too late to back out now._

He walked through to where the sheriff and his desk were. He had no idea who the young man was personally, but he was pretty sure it was the same guy as last time he'd seen him – must've been about 27 years ago now. He was in the square, making a public speech about something or another.

Jefferson knew it was a blessing and a curse to have such a good memory. In this case, it was a blessing, for he needn't even glance at the plaque on the desk to know what to call him.

_And now to act like any other member of this godforsaken town._

"Sheriff Humbert?" he asked, moving to stand in front of his desk. The man looked up with a raised eyebrow.

"How can I help you, Mr . . . ?"

"Jefferson. I'm Jefferson." He attempted a smile while trying not to tremble. _Stop shaking. He's just a person. You've encountered many of them before in your life. _The problem was that he had spent so long without people, without talking to people, and going back on that now was hard. Also kinda freaky.

_You're a coward._

_No I'm not!_

_Prove it._

"Well, Mr Jefferson," the sheriff was saying, "how may I help you?"

Now came the next part. How to phrase what was on his mind. _Has anyone entered Storybrooke recently? Have there been any strange occurrences in town? Why is magic in the air? _

Okay, none of them would do.

_How are you, Huntsman?_

Nope.

"I was coming to talk about something, Sheriff Humbert." That was all he could think of. "It, um, it's about Storybrooke, and the people here, and stuff . . ."

Sheriff Humbert tilted his head to the side, frowning. "You're not a regular resident here, are you?"

"I – I am!" Jefferson exclaimed. "I mean, I live at the top of the hill, in the woods."

The sheriff opened his mouth, but instead of saying something, he started to laugh. "You're a regular? I've never seen you around here, and the fact that you're calling me 'Sheriff Humbert' is a giveaway."

Jefferson resisted the urge to bolt out of there, or cry, or scream, and took a deep breath. _Think. Think what you're going to say_. "What do others call you, then?"

"Graham's just fine, Mr Jefferson."

"Okay. Graham." _Say something, you idiot_. "Um, so . . . I meant to ask. Has anything happened in Storybrooke recently? Anyone new arrived?"

Graham looked at him, a little strangely. _You were expecting that look, of course_. "I'm afraid I can't say I've noticed anything happening round here recently . . . Storybrooke is an awfully boring place at times." He cracked a grin. "As for new arrivals, I can say I had Emma Swan staying over there for the night." He jerked his thumb over to the cell opposite them, currently empty.

"Emma Swan?"

"You asked for new arrivals, and she's the only one I can think of. If I'm right, she's staying at Granny's. Is there anything troubling you, sir?"

_Next stop, Granny's diner. Next stop. Emma Swan . . ._ The name was officially engraved into his mind. If this 'Emma Swan' was the key to getting home, then he would find her, no matter what.

"No." He smiled. "There's nothing troubling me at all."


	5. Chapter 5

_He stood outside the house, sighing and looking through the window at Alice. She waved happily, a hand resting on her stomach. He blew her a kiss before heading into the woods._

_Alice was pregnant. In a few months, he would be a father. And he was the happiest man in the world. They'd both wanted to start a family for so long . . . and now they had the chance._

_He walked through the woods, dusting his hat off and setting it firmly on his head. He'd received a message last night from the Queen, demanding his assistance. So he took the hat and prepared for another journey to some other world._

_Jogging up the steps to the palace, he was stopped by guards. "What business do you have with the Queen?" one asked, jabbing him with the point of his spear._

_They asked him this every time, and every time he showed them the note that had been delivered by a raven the night before, and every time they let him through. After all the years he'd worked there, he still wasn't trusted to enter the castle without inspection. _

_Jefferson, after being eventually allowed through, walked away from the bright sunlight and stepped into the icy cold, stone castle. He made his way along the familiar path up to the Queen's chamber, where all their exchanges were done in secret._

_As usual, he waited inside the main chamber, ambling round the room and stepping past the long-dead potted plant. He was used to waiting, pretending to take an interest in the ornaments on the mantelpiece above the seldom-used fireplace. He was just picking up a small gold telescope with the ability to see into Oz-knows-where, when a voice startled him into dropping it on the floor._

_"Jefferson."_

_He picked up the dented telescope quickly, setting it back on the mantelpiece and turning to face Regina._

_"Here at your service, my queen." Spreading his arms out, he gave a short bow before straightening up. "I received your message."_

_Regina's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Alas, Hatter, you shall not be making any journeys into other worlds today."_

_Jefferson made an unconscious move backwards, bumping into the stone wall. Despite it being morning, almost midday, the winter season was upon the Enchanted Forest and the intricately-patterned curtains were closed, leaving the only light coming from the flaming torches on the wall brackets. The combination casted a dim glow across the room, leaving the Queen in her black gown to be almost a mere shadow on the other side of the chamber. Her pale, powdered skin contrasting with her black-rimmed eyes was a staggering mix that made her even more frightening than usual._

_"Why do you want me then, if I'm not travelling?"_

_"Jefferson, please. You should know more than most that that's not how to address a queen. Remember your manners." A flick of her wrist and he was on his knees, unable to stand. Another flick of her wrist, and the previously-dead potted plant sprung to life and wrapped the parched branches round his hands and ankles._

_Straining against his bonds only made them tighter, so the Hatter looked up, jaw set. "Fine," he hissed, hating how vulnerable he was. "Why do you require my presence if I'm not travelling, your Majesty?"_

_"Much better!" she exclaimed, a wild glint in her eyes. She walked forward, slowly, her dress trailing after her, until she stood right in front of him. _

_She dropped down into an unladylike crouch, her many skirts billowing out around her. "I mean only to talk with you, Jefferson."_

_He'd honestly rather fight a dragon._

_He didn't say that, knowing it would only earn him an early grave, but instead kept his eyes to the ground and waited for her to continue._

_Her cool finger tipped his chin up, forcing him to meet her gaze. "I have some news of which I feel you have the . . . right to know."_

_"You no longer need the hat?" he asked quickly._

_"Do _not_ interrupt me when I am speaking!" she said quietly, her eyes burning into his. He couldn't even blink, he was so frozen. Her very voice crackled with hatred._

_"M-my apologies, ma'am."_

_She relaxed slightly, a smile forming. "Thank you," she replied quietly, before pressing a small kiss to his lips._

_The kiss sparked through him like a bolt of electricity, something he'd rarely come into contact with. He fought the urge to kiss back, because whatever grip Regina had on him, it was more than physical. But he had self-control and he knew how to use it, so he stared into her eyes, motionless, until she pulled away._

_"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, a faint smirk playing on his moist lips. _

_She stood gracefully, whipping her skirt round and heading for the door. "I was going to make you an offer, Jefferson."_

_"I thought Rumplestiltskin was the man with the deals, Regina." He was done with formality now. It was obvious she wouldn't kill him, no matter how much he irritated her._

_When she smiled, though, it was both relieving and disconcerting. "I never said a deal, Jefferson. An offer."_

_She clapped her hands once and the rotting plant retreated, leaving Jefferson unchained. He stood up, dusting himself a little and watching her. "An offer means you don't want something in return?"_

_"Exactly!" she exclaimed, turning back round to face him and walking back. Seemed like she was almost pacing, actually. _

_What was getting the Evil Queen so . . . nervous? He really didn't want to know._

_"So, this offer. What is it?"_

_She stopped walking when about a metre in front of him. Gazing up at him through her long, curled eyelashes, a small smirk twisted her lips. "I have a problem, Jefferson, and the solution lies with you."_

_He waited, patient, eyes trained on hers. _Not falling for that look anymore, Regina_, he thought. _I have a family now.

_She stepped forward. "I'm expecting a child, and that child is yours."_


	6. Chapter 6

_"What?!" he hissed, eyes widening. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't possible._

_But of course it was possible; it was possible, rational, logical._

_It was unfair._

_"You heard me correct," she replied, obviously enjoying his reaction. "So hear my offer." She stepped forward, again, now mere inches away from him. "Come to live in the castle, and be the father to this child."_

_"Regina –"_

_"It would bring you out of poverty, Jefferson," she interrupted. "And as for your wife, Alice, your choice will decide whether she lives the life she deserves or goes to poverty with you."_

_He raised himself up to his full height. "I'm not in poverty –"_

_"From this day on," Regina cut in again, "you no longer work here. Good luck finding a job somewhere else."_

_That was a serious threat. Without his irregular payment from the castle, from his odd little travelling jobs, he, Alice and their baby would no doubt fall into poverty._

_He couldn't let that happen to Alice . . . but the consequences were too dear. _

_Regina or Alice?_

_Live like a king, or live like a peasant?_

_Regina or Alice?_

_That's what it came down to. What did he prefer – the love or the money? Having been there to watch Regina's attempt to resurrect her one true love, he knew that she wouldn't love anyone like she'd loved Daniel. With Alice, he got love that he would never be able to explain. But the money, the chances he would give his dear wife to be free of worry, to never have to think twice about what she buys, to let his child be anyone they wanted to be . . ._

_What did he prefer – the love or the money?_

_It was his turn to step forward, to close the gap between them and stare down at her. "If I do this," he whispered, "Alice stays unharmed?"_

_"I won't touch her."_

_"She will want for nothing?"_

_"She will have everything you desire her to have."_

_"She will be under the castle's protection?"_

_"A guard with her every day and night, if that's what you wish for."_

_Jefferson pulled back, restless, agitated. He took the hat off his head and put it back on. He paced round the room, muttering under his breath, thinking about what he would have to do. He then turned, rocking back on his heels, raising his eyes slowly. No doubt, Regina ignited something inside of him. No doubt, the offer was tempting, for him and for his wife. He would be able to give Alice things they hadn't dreamed of for years. A chance. Freedom._

_"Have you made your choice, Jefferson?" Regina's stony voice echoed around the chamber._

_He closed his eyes. He knew what he had to do. _

_He strode forward, aggressive, burning, and pulled Regina's body to his. He then captured her lips with his own, in a dance, in a battle. A fight. The kiss was powerful but as soon as they touched he knew it wasn't right, he knew it wasn't meant to be._

_So he stumbled back, quickly wiping his mouth on his sleeve, and swallowed. _Come on. Say it. You're a coward because you love her.

_He did love her. He loved his Alice like he loved no other._

_"I can't accept. I don't love you. You're a queen and I'm a hatter. This –" he gestured between them, "– would never work."_

_There was a long pause. The silence that settled over them was hostile, and just a touch alarming. Regina's eyes narrowed and her gloved fingers plucked at a bit of lace on her dress. "You don't abandon family, Jefferson," she muttered. "You don't."_

_"Exactly," he said quietly. "That's why I'm saying no."_

_She looked up then, her dark eyes clearly startled. Her plan wasn't working and she couldn't understand why._

_Jefferson knew he would never go back to the castle, and he hoped he'd never see Regina again. Maybe one day he would hear of a prince who had taken to the throne, glorious and evil and corrupted like his mother. Maybe not. Or even possibly a girl, with dark hair and dark eyes and rosy cheeks on pale skin. He could imagine attending a royal ball, and seeing his own daughter prance up on the stage, complete with crystal slippers and ribbons and seven skirts. _

_"I'm sorry you feel that way," said Regina with a stiff formality. "Don't come crying to me if you change your mind."_

_He reached out and stroked a finger down her cheek. "My dear queen," he murmured, "the only one crying will be you." He marched past her, his boots hitting the stone floor with a clunk, and left the room before he could say or do anything else._

_When leaving the palace, and heading home through the well-worn path in the forest, he tried to think of his victory but was stuck on one little line. He couldn't seem to get past it; like a wall built in his mind, stopping that one small, insignificant phrase from ever getting lost inside his chasm of memories._

_"You don't abandon family, Jefferson," he told himself over and over again._

* * *

_You don't abandon family._ The phrase suddenly came to him, and he sat upright, panting. It wasn't often his nightmares included Regina . . . more often was the torment that came with being the Mad Hatter. Hours and hours, days and days, years and years spent making hat after hat. _Get it to work_, he'd screamed repeatedly, but it never did.

He knew Regina left him in Wonderland because she wanted her father back, but looking back at that day long ago it seemed maybe she was trying to convey a deeper message.

_Some fathers are good to their children._

Others leave them in the hands of a queen, or leave them alone while they go to do one last errand and never return. That's right. Jefferson was a bad father and he knew it.

_You don't abandon family._

_Oh, Regina, if only you knew the half of it._


	7. Chapter 7

Jefferson managed to shake himself out of his nightmares, as he did every night, but this time paused to think about it for a moment. Most of his dreams were about being trapped in Wonderland. Not that one.

Sitting up, he studied the map he'd fallen asleep on. He'd somehow marked the station with an X and then drawn an arrow to Granny's with a small note saying 'Emma Swan'.

So that was the next stop.

Glancing at the clock, Jefferson realised he'd overslept, and Grace was about two hours into school already. He kicked himself mentally, and just gathered the maps in his hands. He threw them onto the sofa, striding through to the kitchen to make some tea.

While the kettle was steaming, he drummed his fingers on the surface of the counter. _How do you approach her? How do you know she won't be scared?_

He didn't know that, he couldn't. There was every chance that she'd see him how the storybooks do – the Mad Hatter.

* * *

_"I need you to do this one thing for me. Please."_

_Rumpelstiltskin raised his eyes slowly, surveying the man in front of him. "Jefferson, you've returned. How delightful." He giggled, and tapped his fingers together._

_Jefferson resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead stepped forward, the small flames reflecting in his eyes. "I need your help."_

_The usually-gleeful man's face contorted in rage, pointing a finger at him. "Oh, no you don't. You have the nerve, Jefferson, the nerve to come crawling back here?! After you _betrayed_ me?!"_

_Jefferson stumbled back, flinching. The Dark One was not wise to cross and maybe it was in the man's best interests to run while he still could. Merely pointing his finger had thrown a strong force at him and he was left breathless, feeling Rumpelstiltskin's anger and hatred. But no . . . he'd gone there for a reason and he wasn't about to give up without a fight._

_"Rumpelstiltskin, I'm here to make a deal."_

_That paused the Dark One in the middle of his anger. ". . . A deal, you say?"_

_"That's right," replied Jefferson steadily. "Do you, um, accept?"_

_An impish grin spread across his greenish, scaly skin, and he hopped forward with pointed toes until he stood in front of Jefferson. "May I ask what this deal consists of?" He leaned forward, raising himself up on tiptoes until their faces were inches apart. Rumpelstiltskin stared into Jefferson's eyes, his own black ones wide and unblinking. "What is it that you _desire_?" he hissed._

_Jefferson straightened, but didn't step back. It would be a sign of weakness. "A simple swap is all I ask."_

_"A swap?"_

_"A switch. Two things switching places."_

_"And what do you have that you can offer me in return?"_

_"Whatever you desire."_

_"The hat." Both men blinked at the same time, and Jefferson's eyes narrowed. _

_"You know fully well the hat's useless in your hands. It needs a portal jumper and I'm the only one I know of." He paused, thinking. "Come on, Rumpelstiltskin. What do you really want from me?"_

_They both knew the answer to that. "Your first-born child, Jefferson."_

_"Done."_

_The Dark One was torn. Something was happening, and he didn't understand what. He didn't understand why Jefferson was so willing to give up his family. But he simply giggled and said quietly, "You're colder than I remember, old friend."_

_On Jefferson's part, he was a genius. He'd been preparing the plan for a while._

_Approximately one month before Alice was due to give birth, she picked up a lethal disease. She'd managed to survive, which was more than Jefferson could've hoped for, but when she gave birth the baby was fatally ill. His daughter – Alice had chosen the name 'Grace' for her – had mere days to live. He couldn't be certain, of course, but he had a theory that the whole thing was Regina's fault. It was her who's made Alice ill and it was her who targeted his unborn child. So Jefferson decided to change things around; he wouldn't let her win, not again. His deal was to switch the children – Alice's for Regina's. That way, he could still have the family he'd hoped for._

_And Regina would be left with nothing._

_Jefferson knew it was cruel, but he hardened his heart and went along with it. Regina would be left with a dying child – who was the first-born he dealt away to Rumpelstiltskin – and Alice would be happy. Rumpel would be left with a dead child - Regina's._

_Rumpelstiltskin, the most famous trickster in all the worlds, was about to be tricked._

* * *

Jefferson walked into town that afternoon, constantly adjusting his scarf and glancing around agitatedly. His fingers drummed an unfaltering rhythm against the flask of tea he held in his hands.

When he stopped outside Granny's Bed and Breakfast, he stared at it, the small, rundown, cottage-like place with the fallen leaves trailing forgotten on the steps. It took him several minutes to work up the courage to go inside, and even when he did, he had to slam the door behind him, hard, so he wouldn't run.

_Quit being a coward._

Looking around interestedly, he glanced over the cobwebs lining every inch of the place. It was no surprise the place was never used. Strangers don't come to Storybrooke . . . except Emma Swan. At the sound of the door, most likely, an elderly lady started down the stairs. His eyes caught hers and for a moment he wondered if she really did remember him. Granny. The only person in the Enchanted Forest that he could even consider caring about her daughter more than he did his.

_Shame I couldn't get the pretty one. Red._

He chuckled inwardly and strolled up to the desk, eyes casually scanning over the thickened layer of dust resting on the shelves. Most of them, all but three, had keys. Granny's eyes followed him, distrusting.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a sharp voice. She stepped behind the desk, and he grinned at the cup of tea she set down. _How coincidentally perfect_.

"Uh, yeah. I could use your help. I'm looking for an Emma Swan."

Granny stared at him for a while, eyes narrowed and brows drawn together. "Leave a message, I can pass it on."

Jefferson sighed a little. "She's not in?"

"No."

"Can you tell me when she'll be back?"

"No."

"Can you at least tell me which room she's staying? I'd like to leave a present."

"Leave it here."

"Why can't you just –"

"Customer privacy." So Granny didn't know who Jefferson was, but she still treated him the same.

Jefferson clenched his jaw. He could act frustrated. He could act angry. He was almost permanently both of those things. So he opened his mouth to retort, when his face creased into a frown. "What's that?" he asked, pointing behind Granny.

_And now, for the master trick_.

In one swift motion, as Granny turned, he brought up his flask and pulled the already-unscrewed lid back with two fingers. He tilted the flask above the teacup, pouring in his own brew silently. By the time Granny twisted back to face him, he'd already finished.

"What's what?"

Jefferson stood on tiptoes and peered over her head, his hand leaning on the dirty surface of the desk. "I . . . nothing. Sorry. Trick of the light." He smiled charmingly at her and stepped back. "Thank you for your help," he said quietly, turning and exiting the inn.

When outside, Jefferson breathed in the sweet, fresh air and squinted in the midday sun that was positioned right in his eyes. He started to count to sixty seconds; he was only at thirty-four when he heard a clunk and a clash from inside.

Heading back in, Jefferson grinned at Granny's sleeping form. Her head rested on her arms, which were crossed and leaning on the table. Her eyelids fluttered with every slow, sleepy breath she took. By the chair she sat on, a smashed teacup lay on the floorboards.

As he stepped past her, still smiling, he patted her head and readjusted a lock of curling, grey hair. "Sorry," he whispered. "You gave me no choice."

Then he focused his attention on the slots in the wall, studying them carefully. He had been right – only three keys were missing. The first, he assumed, was Emma's. The second, Granny's. The third . . . he would assume Red's.

However, as to which one was which, he had no clue, and judging by the amount of time the tea usually gave him, he had to hurry.


	8. Chapter 8

_It had been days and his baby Grace was only getting worse. Both Alice and Jefferson knew she didn't have long to live. Alice had spent the days curled up with her daughter in her arms, not crying, not sleeping, barely even blinking. Assuming Rumpelstiltskin held the deal - and he'd never been known not to - things would be okay . . . at least for Alice. Jefferson forced himself not to care, not to even feel, when he saw his daughter obviously dying in his wife's arms. _

_Not his daughter for long. Rumpelstiltskin would keep the deal._

_Not his daughter for long. Stop caring._

_"Alice," he whispered to his wife, stroking the hair out of her eyes. "Everything will be alright. You'll be alright." He paused, seeing as Alice was already slipping away from him, already dying herself just seeing how their little Grace wouldn't make it. "I promise."_

_"You can't, Jefferson!" she wailed suddenly, clutching her baby to her chest. "You can't promise that!"_

_And he felt wretched. _

_Never one to break a deal, however, Rumpelstiltskin was quick to act upon switching the two children. The moment Alice closed her eyes, the moment she whispered "We need a miracle," to both her husband and her child, Jefferson was met by  
a knock on the door of his small home._  
_  
He pressed his lips to Alice's forehead. "I'll be right back, Little Rabbit." Avoiding every creaky floorboard and stepping soundlessly, he made his way to the door and peered through the gap._  
_  
"Rumpelstiltskin," he muttered, sorting his thoughts out carefully and then opening the door. "You came."_  
_  
"We had a deal, old friend," the eerie voice replied. Eyes as black as the pit of a well met his own and the Dark One's famous creepy giggle echoed through the house._  
_  
"Who's there?" called Alice weakly from the other room. Jefferson pressed a finger to his lips, looking at Rumpel._  
_  
"Just a neighbour. Don't worry, darling."_  
_  
Rumpel's thin, leathery lips stretched into a broad grin, and he flicked his wrist. "Consider it done," he cooed. "Your switch has been switched. I don't ask questions, dearie, but I do want my prize."_  
_  
It was Jefferson's turn to wear the smile of victory. "You'll find your prize at the Queen's castle, old friend."_  
_  
Rumpelstiltskin's eyes searched his face, trying to understand. It took a moment for him to realise. "You," he hissed. "You dirty little -"_  
_  
Jefferson slammed the door quickly, breathing heavily. It took him a moment to calm down, but when he reopened the door there was nobody there. He swallowed. _  
_  
_One, two, three, four, five_. He breathed out._  
_  
"Jefferson!" came a squeal. Glancing round, alarmed, he strode back through to crouch beside his wife._  
_  
"Alice?! What's wrong?"_  
_  
"Grace. Look at her!"_  
_  
Jefferson pried the baby girl out of her arms, and studied her closely. This wasn't Grace. This was Regina's daughter. This was a happy, healthy baby, with glowing soft skin and eyes as beautiful as a budding rose. She giggled up at him and wrapped her hand round his finger, blinking and smiling. Not bleak, not dying, but wholly alive. Pure._  
_  
Radiant._

* * *

He crept up the stairs at a slow pace. Brushing his fingers along the peeling wallpaper, he blew patterns through the dust that rose up.

_Focus_. He stepped out onto the landing. Checking out the first key, he then trailed down the hallway, searching for the room that fit the key.

Jefferson knew he was no detective, but the room that fit the first key was clearly not Emma Swan's. Most likely Red's, in fact, judging by the many homely features it possessed - plus the idea of Granny wearing the lacy bra lying on the bed was cringe-worthy.

He slipped the key back into his pocket, shaking his head. _Next one._

The second room he tried, it seemed, was Emma's. The only stuff in the room was furniture provided by the inn, but the ruffled bed sheets and half-open curtains suggested a visitor. Nobody was in, of course.

Honestly, he'd imagined something grander, more exciting. Something that proved she was magical.

Jefferson sighed to himself, ducking his head. He'd found Emma, and he was going to make her help him whether she wanted to or not. She was the key - she made the clock tick. She was the end to this curse. She was the way back to the  
Enchanted Forest, side by side with Grace. He hadn't felt this hopeful in 28 years.

He slipped the key into his pocket, and headed back downstairs to put the other two back.

Just as he stepped past Granny, however, she stirred, causing him to leap back and smash into a vase. He cursed loudly as she sat up sleepily, glancing round.

"Hello . . . ?"

He dived round the desk and dropped down into a crouch, silently praying to a god he didn't believe in. _Please don't see me. _  
_Please don't look at me._

She frowned slightly.

_Don't see me. Please._

Her eyes skimmed over the room, and she slowly pushed her thinning grey hair back.

_Don't look down. If you see me . . ._

Granny's head drooped down, slowly, and she laughed quietly to herself before falling asleep again.

A long time passed before Jefferson trusted himself to stand up. The two keys still clutched tightly in his hand, he dropped them on the table, and breathed out.

Then he pulled out the third one. "Emma," he murmured, brushing his thumb over the simple, metal engravings. "I'll be back for you."

* * *

_"Is she okay?"_

_"Yes, Alice, she's fine. She's a survivor."_

_Alice sighed happily, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder. "Oz, she's beautiful."_

_Don't say it. Don't say it._

_"Just like her mother," he replied in a whisper, leaning round to press a kiss into Alice's hair._


End file.
